Doll Parts
by Aurora Enkeli Medeis
Summary: At breakfast, Draco sits and muses about how and why his feelings suddenly shifted, wondering just what he should do with them.


**Notes:** Randomly inspired and written ficlet. It barely qualifies as a songfic as I haven't really used a great deal of lyrics. The song is 'Doll Parts' by Hole. I wanted to write something that had Draco pondering over his feelings for Harry while keeping it as in character as I could, let me know how I did. From reading it, it would also seem that I have been hit with a big dose of painful realism today and therefore it ended up in a story.

**  
Disclaimer: **Draco Malfoy and the Harry Potter universe belong to J.K. Rowling, I just live to dream. The song is owned by …Courtney Love probably.

- -

Love and hate are funny things. Even when you have felt both in massive quantities it is hard to make heads or tails of them. They are both so closely related although at opposite ends of the emotional spectrum- strong enough to consume a person, powerful enough to break them.

I know a lot about these things and the reason why just walked in the doors of the Great Hall. Messy black hair, Avada Kedavra eyes, lightening shaped scar …I really couldn't have picked a worse person. A half-blood, Gryffindor _male_ not to mention saviour of the wizarding world, arch nemesis of daddy's boss and, generally, an annoying, bespectacled twat.

I watch him sit down, laughing and joking with his friends, pretending he doesn't notice me. I hate being ignored, almost as much as I hate him. It was last night that I really saw how much I hated him, one of the moments where it is all you know and all you can think of.

_  
I love him so much it just turns to hate_

It also happened to be last night that I realised I loved him. Ridiculous? Of course it is bloody ridiculous! He was wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and instead it only smeared across his cheek. Something was burning in my stomach; in my chest and in my head- I was feeling. Years and years of being the perfect Malfoy: feeling nothing, showing nothing on those rare occasions that I did feel and until that point I didn't realise that the only time I felt was when Potter was around.

I would antagonize him, go out of my way to get a reaction from him, seek him out in corridors simply because I had an insult I wanted to throw at him. He was an obsession, wherever he would go I would follow, simply on the off chance I could infuriate him. I see the way his cheeks flush and eyes burn when I pass just the right comment. It is one of few things that make me genuinely happy. Isn't it funny? Harry Potter is what makes me happy.

It was easy to hate him; so simple a flobberworm could easily grasp the concept if given the chance. But somewhere along the way I forgot exactly why I hated him. While looking for things to mock I found attributes to admire. That was when I discovered where the Malfoy mask ended and Draco Malfoy began. The last seven years were just pretend.

_  
I fake it so real I am beyond fake_

I won't pretend my little revelation hasn't caused me great pain over the last twelve hours. I watch him over the rim of my glass as I take a drink. He is quite happily munching on some breakfast, listening as the Mudblood talks animatedly to him. There is a light bruise on his cheek from where I punched him and a small cut from where his lip struck the corner of a desk. Those are my only claims to him. I keep my face impassive, cold porcelain mask in place even though I feel yet another unfamiliar stirring in my chest: pangs of sorrow, of longing.

_  
And someday you will ache like I ache_

He swallows and replies to Granger, smiling about something or other. I wonder if he would still smile if he new what was going through my mind.

_  
And someday you will ache like I ache_

Would the Gryffindor nobility stretch far enough to prevent him gloating over the fact that he has the power to make a Malfoy feel? I set my glass back down. There is a tiny part of me, suppressed and locked in a box at the back of my mind, which wonders what it would be like to tell him. Not that it would be an easy thing to explain mind you- "Potter? Remember how I've always hated you? Well I still do but I also happen to love you, isn't that grand?"- Only well practiced control stops me from snorting in incredulity at my thoughts.

_  
And someday you will ache like I ache_

He would probably feel bad for causing me pain. Bloody Gryffindors. The caged optimism in my head is screaming at me- "Maybe he feels the same."- A mantra repeated over and over until I finally tell it to shut up. It is an interesting notion however- Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy being used in reference to love as opposed to the hatred and rivalry they are currently synonymous with. An entertaining thought but a practical improbability.

Tell this story to a hopeless romantic and they would re-tell it in a way that myself and Potter would embark on a star-crossed romance, defying the odds and pulling through all adversity. Me- I would denounce the Dark Lord and my family name and he in turn would tell his housemates and friends that I was his choice and they should accept it. What a perfect little tale it could be.

_  
And someday you will ache like I ache_

I keep watching him through the curtain of my hair as I stand from the table. He is laughing; eyes bright as he speaks to Weasley with flailing, over dramatic hand gestures. Such a shame romantic tales rarely come true. Steely resolve holds in an all too girlish sigh as I walk from the hall.

_  
Someday you will ache like I ache_

One quick look over my shoulder confirms it for me. It would be nice, I suppose, to share this with him and gauge his reaction. Hell, perhaps the romance could be worth it and maybe we would both live through it. That isn't a chance I can take. Self-preservation: a key serpentine trait. Really, I'm preserving him as well.

So I won't tell him because I am a Slytherin and we do what is in our on best interests. I won't tell him because I have as much faith in a relationship working as I have in the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

And finally- I will not tell him because Malfoy's do not show what they feel. They become fake, like the porcelain dolls their masks make them appear to be. I am a Malfoy and that is the cross that I bear.

_  
I am doll parts  
Bad skin, doll heart  
It stands for a knife  
For the rest of my life_

- -

_Finite._

- -


End file.
